My wife and I will be celebrating our thirteenth anniversary in a few months. For most of that time, my gaming partners have been my two sons. Deana has been very tolerant of all the gaming that goes on, as she knows it has made my relationship with the boys very close. But she hardly ever joins in on the fun. Every once in a while, she’ll be our lead vocalist in Rock Band, and once I forced her to play Left 4 Dead with me for a few minutes, but that’s about the extent of her co-op gaming experience. (My wife has earned me plenty of gamerscore in Kinect exercise games, though, and for that I am eternally grateful.)
Recently, Deana and I were having our typical “early evening recap of the day’s events” chat with one another, and it had been a frustrating workday for us both. I was anxious to relieve some of my stress by my favorite method: shooting some aliens in a videogame. As I walked to the living room, and called for my faithful ten-year old sidekick to fire up the 360, it occurred to me that a friend had left his copy of Gears of War 3 at our house. I walked back to the kitchen, where super-Mom was dutifully preparing dinner. Grabbing her hand, I put a controller in it, and invited her to join us in some Horde mode. She protested a bit, but I insisted.
Resigned to her fate, she sighed and plopped down on the couch next to me. My son ran into the other room where the second Xbox 360 was housed, and within a few minutes, we created a game, choosing a simple map, one that was easy to defend. Since the point of the session was to blow off some steam, and not to challenge our skills, Casual difficulty seemed the best choice. Moments later, wave one had begun.
Knowing that Deana’s FPS skills were pretty much non-existent, I gave her an incredibly quick primer, with only the basics. Left trigger to look, right trigger to shoot, right stick to aim. Moving her character over to a good piece of cover, I pressed A and told her to stand there and wait for bad guys. Right around this point, the first few Locust, mostly Wretches, were upon us. Rolling her eyes, my wife kept telling me she didn’t see anything. When Connor moved in her field of view, she mistook Marcus Fenix for a bad guy (understandably, I suppose) and unloaded on him.
Soon, the wave was over, and I could tell she was about ready to quit. She was slumped over, feat up in the recliner, and had her phone out checking Facebook. The controller lay on her lap. “Come on, babe, just a few more minutes,” I said, and she reluctantly agreed. I put her in cover again, made sure she understood the controls, and wave two began.
Throughout the next few waves, though, Deana’s manner changed. At one point, she died, and was confused as to why she couldn’t shoot anymore. I explained she’d be back in it as soon as we finished off a last pocket of drones. Rather than disappoint her that the "silly game" wasn’t over, the idea of a respawn seemed to please her. My wife gradually sat up in her chair a bit, taking a few slow, tentative steps away from cover. She wielded the controller like a Wii remote, moving it left and right as the action intensified. I looked over at her screen at one point, and she was looking straight up, so I helped her get reoriented, dying myself in the process. Luckily, our kiddo is an accomplished Gear, and mopped up the remaining Horde easily, but this time, he had a little assistance from his mother.
The further we progressed, the more intense the fighting became. Deana gasped out loud, and muttered under her breath such phrases as “get ‘em get ‘em get ‘em” and “fire! Why aren’t you firing? I’m pushing the button!” When we hit wave 10, a colossal Brumak appeared, shooting rockets from its arms. My kind, sweet wife had been transformed; she was at the edge of her seat and tapping her feet like mad. After a hard fought few minutes, the giant monster fell, followed by his minions. The wave was complete! I raised my arms in victory, but Deana actually leapt to her feet in joy. She let forth a primal scream, and pumped her arms, clutching her controller as if it were a beloved weapon. (I was reminded of the apes in 2001: A Space Odyssey.) Our son ran in from the other room, and the three of us hugged each other, flushed from our accomplishment. It was a memorable moment for each of us.
I’ve not been able to talk Deana into playing Gears of War 3 again, but not for lack of trying. Perhaps someday soon, she’ll have another rough day at school, and come home ready to lay the smack down on some ugly space monsters. When she does, my trusty sidekick and I will be ready. The three of us make a tough squad of Gears. Brumaks, beware!